


Days of the Week

by SilverFlameAlchemist



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Al loves strays, Cats, Character Study, Drabble Sequence, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Light Angst, Multi, Slice of Life, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 04:37:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16633082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverFlameAlchemist/pseuds/SilverFlameAlchemist
Summary: Based on the "Monday's Child" nursery rhyme, a quick character study for each day of the week, featuring some of my favorite characters.





	1. Monday's Child is Fair of Face

 

Envy inspected himself in the tiny shard of glass by his foot, wondering when he’d started to care so much about how he looked. Maybe it was Edward Elric’s fault. That Fullmetal Pipsqueak _had_ called him ancient only the other day…

But he wasn’t _that_ old… Only 175. Hell, he was younger than Lust, and Fullmetal would never have commented on _her_ being an ancient hag.

(Admittedly, Envy had been the one to call her that, but it was more out of frustration than anything--she wasn’t a hag, ancient or otherwise, she was beautiful. Really beautiful.)

Envy frowned down at himself and shifted into Riza Hawkeye, the Colonel’s precious princess. Finding that didn’t help, he shifted into the Colonel himself, and then back into his usual form.

Why was he having an inner-turmoil moment right now? Especially by sunset on the roof of a burnt-out building in Central?

Because he needed reassuring. Reassuring that he was handsome. It came in waves, sometimes, like a cold slosh of water, dowsing whatever tiny flame of self-worth he had managed to coax into existence--snugged out by a voice that sounded remarkably like Father, telling him he wasn't good enough.

Normally he would have kept his mouth shut, kept it all in and let it fester till the next time he pulled off something truly spectacular, but this time he let out a sound of disgust, loud enough he knew his companion would hear it (and he wouldn't admit why, not even to himself, but he knew it was because, _for some reason_ , some tiny shard of him, deep down, wanted to be validated).

“Envy? What’s going on?” Lust gently laid a hand on his shoulder, uncharacteristically concerned, and he knew his plan had worked. *You sound even more upset than usual--did the pipsqueak do something, again?"

"Nothing more than his usual stunts." He grumbled, sighing as he kept his eyes on his reflection. “I'm just thinking too much. I'm curious, though, what do you think, Lust? Am I handsome?”

She laughed softly. “Envy, you’re the most handsome creature I know. Especially by sunset.”

Envy grinned, looking up at her. “Good. Because I’d hate to think there was some human out there I needed to be jealous of for their good looks.”

 


	2. Tuesday's Child is Full of Grace

Edward sighed softly as he put the last of the boxes onto the spare room floor, pushing the hair out of his eyes. What was Winry even putting in here that was so heavy?

“Ed! Are you done moving those boxes?”

He smiled; heading back down the stairs for the lemonade he knew was waiting. Sure enough, Winry was in the kitchen, pouring a glass for him as he walked over.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m done. What are you building, anyway? A freaking warship?” He asked, leaning in to peck her on the cheek.

She grinned. “No, silly. I’m going to put the nursery in there.”

Ed blinked golden eyes at her. “Nursery? But why? There isn’t a baby to put into a Nursery… Winry, did you offer to help out someone behind my back? Oh, no, don't tell me Al adopted another stray!”

Winry rolled her eyes and handed him his glass of lemonade. “Really, Ed, I thought you would have noticed by now. For someone so smart, you really are slow on the uptake, sometimes.”

“I'm not slow, I've been busy!" He defended, pouting. "What is it I'm supposed to have noticed, huh?” He asked, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a large gulp.

“I’m pregnant, Edward.”

Ed choked on his drink, spitting half of it back into his glass before he started coughing, trying to breathe properly again. “ _P-Pregnant_?” He demanded.

Winry laughed. “Real graceful, Edward.” She leaned forward to kiss away a splash of lemonade that was still lingering on the corner of his mouth. “And yes, _pregnant_.”

 


	3. Wednesday's Child is Full of Woe

The wind whispered across the planes, the sun an unforgiving orb of golden light, high above in the crystal clear sky, and from the borrowed shade of a ragged tent, the Ishvalan stared out at the scarred landscape of his once-beautiful country, wondering when this had happened.

 _Why_ this had happened.

There had never been _any_ provocation from either side, and then suddenly a child had been murdered, and Civil War was just around the corner.

Ishval had never stood a chance against Amestris. Not with their weapons and Alchemists and their burning desire for war. Not when so many Ishvalans had been defenseless and scared. It was a war none of them wanted, and one they knew from the beginning they wouldn't win. Pride and anger had been mixed with every word, but so had sorrow and regret. He could remember, clear as the sky, every look of horror and woe on every face of his kinsmen, before they had died.

Scar felt hot tears start to slide across his cheeks, and he didn’t try to fight them. They weren’t tears of sadness, but tears of rage.

A burning desire flared up in his chest, the need to see that same look on the faces of those he considered responsible for the atrocities that had been carried out against his homeland and his people. He wanted to see that same fear in their eyes, hear their breath catch, as in their final moments, they understood the pain and fear they had put his kinsmen through. He wanted to see the light leave their eyes, knowing his burning red ones were the last they would ever see.

He would mourn his people; mourn his country, and exact revenge on those responsible for the slaughter of so many innocent lives.

As his fists clenched involuntarily at his sides, he felt his heart turn hard, and wondered if his brother had known the path he would take when he’d given up his arm… The intricate, almost beautiful tattoos that now graced his right arm were a perfect reminder of how much he had lost--the toll the war had taken on him personally, and his family. It reminded him of all the things that he had given up to get to where he was now, and how little he now had to lose.

 


	4. Thursday's Child Has a Long Way to Go

Jean Havoc let out a strangled cry as his legs gave out, toppling him onto his hands and knees against the padded walkway he’d been using.

He sighed softly, closed his eyes, and reached up for the beams he’d been holding onto on either side of the walkway, taking a deep breath as he calmed himself, refocusing.

Doctor Marco might have healed his legs, but rehab was going to kick his ass if he wasn’t careful.

Jean hauled himself up and carefully continued to the end of the walkway before he turned himself around and headed back the way he had come, eyes set on his wheelchair.

He was so intent on his destination that he didn’t notice the figure by the door, or the packet of cigarettes said figure was holding.

With a sigh, Jean plopped back into the wheelchair, wincing as his muscles clenched painfully from the strain he’d been putting on them.

“Looks like you’re coming along fine…” Roy Mustang mused softly from behind his Second Lieutenant.

Jean wheeled himself around to look at his superior, cracking a smile. “I guess… But I’ve still got a long way to go.” He took the packet of cigarettes with a grin. “This is mostly thanks to you, you know.”

Roy scoffed, starting to wheel his friend out of the room. “Like hell. The only person you have to thank is yourself.”

“All the same, Sir… Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Lieutenant.”

 


	5. Friday's Child is Loving and Giving

Alphonse entered the room stiffly, trying not to make eye-contact with his older brother as he attempted to slink upstairs unnoticed.

It was infinitely easier to sneak now that he had his real body back, and he didn't clink like a bunch of tin cans behind a newly-wed car.

“Hey Al, if you’re not busy, I need some help…” Edward trailed off as he looked over to the spot where Al was frozen by the foot of the stairs. “Alphonse?”

“Sorry, Big Brother, I have to go take care of something real quick!” And with that he tore up the stairs to his room, not even waiting to hear whatever it was Ed had begun to shout at him.

As soon as he was safely in his room with the door locked, he opened his jacket and smiled down at the tiny bundle of fluff that was residing there. “Hey, kitty… It’s okay for you to come out now… Sorry for that, I didn't want Ed to get mad at me again--but our stealth mission is a success!”

He gently placed the tiny tabby on the floor, pulling out a box of sardines from the bedside table that he kept around for such emergencies.

Popping it open, he placed it next to the tiny fluff-ball, and smiled as she started to dig in with gusto.

“Now as long as brother doesn’t find out, it’ll be fine…” Alphonse whispered softly, stroking her head with a forefinger. “So I guess I can’t keep you for long… Just until you’re big enough to fend for yourself at the shelter… Okay? But you're so cute, I'm sure someone will adopt you real quick!”

She mewed softly, and Al grinned.

These moments were always worth the risk.

 


	6. Saturday's Child Works Hard for His Living

Roy’s face connected with his desk in a loud thud, a groan escaping his lips seconds later.

Paperwork was the bane of his existence, and it would doubtless be the end of him.

Especially considering the way it was laid on him without regard for his personal life or mental health.

He turned his head to the side, the cool wood of his desk rather refreshing against his skin, and let out a long sigh.

Who knew being Fuhrer would be so tiring?

And without even a _single_ miniskirt to lessen the horrible, unending pain.

He sat up; rubbing a hand to the red mark he knew was now gracing his forehead, and tried to concentrate on the piles of papers that littered his desk.

Just looking at them gave him a headache.

But that wasn’t the point. He shook his head to clear it and returned his attention to the pile closest to his elbow.

He had to do this. He’d promised… He’d sworn that he would turn this country around, and he would be dammed if a few measly piles of paper were going to stop him now.

He downed the last vestiges of his coffee, and picked up his pen.

It would be another long day… But it would be worth it.

 


	7. And the Child That is Born on the Sabbath Day is Bonny and Blithe, and Good and Gay

Maes Hughes shut his front door as quietly as he could, trying to extract his hand from the grip of a bag, and stuff his keys back into his pocket at the same time.

He was home late. Later than usual, even.

He crept past his daughter’s room, pausing to peer past the door and check on her. She was sound asleep, cuddled up next to a massive teddy bear.

With a smile now lighting up his face, Maes made his way deeper into the apartment, headed towards the dim strip of light at the bottom of his bedroom door.

Maes mentally prepared himself for the tirade that would be directed at him by his wife when he entered the room, but found that she was fast asleep.

With a rather gleeful chuckle, Maes changed out of his uniform and slipped into bed, pulling Gracia close and pressing a light kiss to her cheek.

She wrapped her arms around him as she continued to sleep, sighing softly as Maes kissed her forehead as well.

“You can berate me tomorrow, Gracia, I promise,” he whispered softly, “but right now I just want to feel you close to me.”

A tiny smile slipped onto her lips as she shifted even closer to him. “I’ll hold you to that promise…”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Fullmetal Alchemist, and all related characters, belong to: Hiromu Arakawa


End file.
